Once More With Personality
by alaskataylor
Summary: Character studies of Hetalia characters.


**Full Title**:Once More With Personality: Character Studies of Hetalia Characters

**Chapter Title: **балерина (Ballerina)

**Rating**: K

**Character:** Anya Braginskaya(/fem!Russia)

**Warning:** None.

**Summary:** A character study of Anya Braginskaya.

**Author's Note:** A grand jetè is known as a split in the air. A plié is the bending of the knee which is usually followed by the demi-pointè(for men) or the pointè(for women), which is when you extend your leg out straight into the air. A battlement is a movement in which the dancer lifts one leg to the front, side, or back, and returns it to the supporting leg. On my deviantart(hannalorefan) there is a link to a video of a grand battlement with pirouettes(a whirl type move), like the one in Anya's dream(minus the grand jetè at the end).

And as a final reminder, I do not own Anya or the Hetalia series.

* * *

Anya gets up early this morning, early enough to see the sun rise. She eats her breakfast, a slice of homemade bread and a glass of water, while watching the sun rise to meet everyone from out her window.

After breakfast she goes to her practice room, to practice the moves she saw in her dream last night. Grand battlements with pirouettes, then ending in a grand jetè. The women who did this in her dream was dressed in white and the music played a rhythm that perfectly matched her dancing. She was so graceful and people were watching her, although Anya didn't see them she knew they were there. No one does such a beautiful dance without someone watching.

Anya ties her hair up with ribbon, an old ribbon that is frayed on the ends but nevertheless a ribbon, a white ribbon to match everything else. She ties the laces with care and pride, that she never gives to anything else. She starts off with simple stretches, one s she learned from Marianne. Then she does a couple pirouettes.

_Bad form, the transition from priè to pointe was too quick. Slow down, gracefulness is not achieved by fast racing movements._

She tries again, this time slowing down in the beginning.

_No, no, no! The rotation just isn't right!_

Again.

_The rotation still need to be worked on, but my spotting is in worse shape._

Again.

_How am I going to do a grand battlement with pirouettes if I can t even get a simple pirouette right?_

Again.

_I believe you need to focus more on the pirouette itself instead of every little part of the pirouette dear_,Marianne used to say when they danced together.

She loved when they used to dance together in France. Men and women would pay their hard-earned money to see them dance. Marianne would give her more than half of the money. To buy things that are fashionable. , she used to say. And Anya did just that. Bought fancy new bobby pins and ribbons and new ballet shoes.

But she knew at some point she would have to go back to Russia, as much as it pained her to do so. She loved France and all it s splendors. Bright lights at night were a rarity in Russia and she loved staying up with Marianne and Francis to watch the city light up as the city life thrives on. Night was so interesting in Paris especially.

She continues practicing her pirouette until noon, when her sister comes back to eat. Anya ate with her, comforted by the notion that her sister was there, always there making sure nothing bad happened. She loved her sister and took as much pride in saying she was her sister as she did ballet.

She practices ordinary ballet moves when her sister leaves again, moves she could do in her sleep, to build up her confidence to try the grand battlement with pirouettes. But soon she falls into her and Marianne s old routine.

She stops herself and stands alone in her practice room, looking out the window with a somber look on her face. Snow falls lightly onto the already snow filled ground. She begins to feel concerned about her sister getting back home after work. They didn t have money to get an automobile and they don t live to far from the farm she works at so she can t ride a train home. They were always buying new boots for her and big coats for her when it came near to winter.

Her brother Ivan used to wait by the door for their sister. Sometimes Anya waited with him. Their older brother, the oldest, always came home first. They knew that he was always in the village somewhere, that he would always come home first, but they always got excited, thinking it was their sister.

The other two children, Natalya and Nikolai, never waited with them. They were the youngest out of them all, and did not know or care of the responsibilities they would soon be waited down with. Nikolai anyway. While women Nations represent their people as much as the other, they hardly get a say in anything. Which Anya thought was for the better. Ivan was stronger than Anya, and even though he had trouble with reading and the maths, she knew Ivan would make a good leader.

Ivan spent most of his time alone now, and Anya did not really mind it. He was usually studying or practicing with a stick as a sword whenever she caught a glimpse of him from her window. Ivan loved the outdoors much more than Anya did. She preferred the cool temperatures of France to the seemingly constant cold of Russia.

She changes out of her ballet shoes and uniform, into baggy clothes fitted for a woman with bigger breasts then Anya(or anyone she knew to be quite honest). Natalya was probably still playing with Nikolai and ignoring her job of washing the dishes. Anya sighs. It seems she s the only one that cares about how clean the dishes that they _eat _off of are. Ivan said it was because she had gotten used to the clean dishes and floors of France, that now she thought of Russia as dirty. She ignored him and his venom packed comments.

She loved her homeland, she just wishes that they were more fortunate. In many ways. Like nicer weather and less hungry children. She hoped that Ivan, feeling their homeland s pain, would try his best to fix it. The children part, being that they can to nothing but bear the brunt of the weather.

The twins come rushing through the door, playing some game or another. Natalya is missing her ribbon, probably lost in her toys somewhere. Nikolai was chasing her, wooden stick in hand. His clothes are ripped in several places, and Anya notices his pants are his nice ones. The ones he goes to church in. She pulls him aside and tells him to change while Natalya runs off to somewhere unknown. He says he can t because all his pants are ripping at the seams. Anya sighs and tells him to be careful. He nods and run away towards where Natalya ran. Anya knew, just like she knew that Ivan didn t care for her, that he would not be careful. Boys are never careful, she has learned.

They don't have a lot of food. While their garden, when they were children, seemed booming, they learned as they got older that it just seemed that way because they got the majority of the food. They were barely making it by, which put more stress on everyone besides the twins. They seemed content and Anya is grateful to God for letting them keep their child-like joy and hope for a little while longer.

She wishes she could go back to France, earn more money for her family. But they don t have any money to send her there in the first place. And she was needed here. In their decaying old house, sat up on a hill that overlooked the village below.

With her family. Her oldest sister and brother, who spent most of their time working. Her brother and equal, who hated her because of her dreams of going back to France. And with her youngest brother and sister, who knew none of the troubles that ail them.

And she was going to keep it that way.


End file.
